The Dragon and the Swan
by Bhex
Summary: Alternate universe. Set in a fictional magic school for boys. Affections are bared in the course of a particular birthday celebration. (finished in two parts)
1. part 1

Dragon and Swan 1 

**Note:** Before anyone flames me for its unusual setting, I'd like to explain that the fic is an "alternate reality" fic -- right now, this means that the Troopers aren't in a situation even the most dedicated YST fan could associate with the original storyline. So, please don't send me flames asking where the heck is Merkier in Japan or the yoroikai, or why the names aren't the same as the ones used in YST/RW. This occurred to me in a dream, and I'm writing it down as I remember it :)

  
**The Dragon and the Swan** (Part 1)

  
    Tomorrow, Fall of Night would be sixteen.  
    Descrier, Jade and Polar Star would prepare a presentation for him - a presentation that would make him remember that one night of celebration forever.  
    They sat huddled in a tight circle in a corner of the deserted Sealords' Scroll Room, where the green-eyed Jade worked, as assistant to the librarian. It would close in a matter of minutes, and the three fifteen-year-old apprentice magicians were making the most of their short time.  
    "It's going to be great." Young Descrier's voice rang with vigor. "We can dreamspeak over the evening so we can finally decide on what it's going to look like."  
    "Whatever it'll look like, it'll take up a lot of mana," Jade quietly reminded his friends, "there's no doubt about that."  
    The dark-skinned Polar Star, normally the most pliant of them all, looked thoughtful. "Not," he remarked, "if we had help."  
    "What do you mean?" Descrier demanded. "Do you propose we bring a fourth party into our plans?"  
    "We haven't discussed this before!" Polar Star burst out. "Why don't we talk to Winter?"  
    "Winter?" The name brought a silence down upon the boys, those friends from childhood who - more or less - knew how each other felt about a particular subject.  
    In the Merkier school for boys, the exceptional always stood out sharply, as did Fall of Night, and Winter. They were said to be the two best students of their batch. Winter trained to be something other than a Warmage, though few actually _knew_ what that "something" was - and managing to Specialize in two magics while still young and with so many basics yet to worry over had always been a mark of distinction. The Masters liked Winter, but he was not as liked around Merkier as was Fall of Night, whom even the students liked - sometimes even idolized. Winter had a specific Attitude that denied him disciples.  
    Mellowed somewhat by the silence that followed his suggestion, Polar Star meekly explained: "I mean, we only need an Air to be able to do our Change spells smoothly. I'm an Earth, like Fall of Night - Jade is a Water - you, Descrier, are Fire - "  
    "Enough," Descrier interrupted firmly. "We don't need him."  
    "But an Air would be really helpful," gentle Jade started to say, when Descrier silenced him with a glare.  
    "I _said_ we'll manage on our own."  
    Polar Star pouted. "_I_ don't think he's anything to be afraid of. It's not as if he's more powerful than the three of us put together..."  
    "That's just why," Descrier spat, "I don't want him around. He's _not_ more powerful than the three of us put together, but he's sure as hell acting like it. Well, we leave him the hell alone. Let him do his own presentation."  
    "Um. And besides, there are other Airs," Jade said thoughtfully.  
    But the sad fact was, they all knew they would have difficulty finding other Airs who would be willing to help them. Airs were mostly Weatherworkers, and there were always special projects set for student Weatherworkers at around the dead of midsummer, which was, by mere coincidence, the date when Fall of Night was born.  
    Descrier said to himself sternly: We would do without an Air. The three of us have performed a lot of Change spells by ourselves. The three of us have done a lot of great things by ourselves, risen in skill levels by ourselves - of course, not entirely without Fall of Night's help - but that's all. We don't need anyone else.  
  
    At the same time, the thought of "making it on one's own" brought him back, stubbornly, to the thought of Winter.  
    The slender dark-haired, dark-eyed Firestarter with the uncommon name Descrier growled faintly to himself.  
    He would have liked Winter on their side. But the man was just too damned arrogant. Winter was reliable, but only in that he invariably required a fee for every "favor". That was all. He was no betrayer, because he had no loyalties. He kept to himself.  
    Would he be making his _own_ presentation, though, Descrier wondered...  
    "Hey," he heard a familiar voice call from nearby.  
    He turned abruptly and came face to face with Fall of Night.  
    A wave of blond hair fell naturally over the older boy's gray-blue eyes. The taller child named Fall of Night was all that: cornsilk hair and stars the color of midsummer. His green Healer's robes _looked_ heavy and _were_, and they fit loosely about him - and yet his every move, every step seemed to be so graceful.  
    He and Descrier were the only two people in the corridor.  
    "You're coming to the celebration, Descrier?"  
    Suddenly Descrier was at a loss for words. Only a while ago he had been stealing thoughts of Fall - embarrassment hammered away at him.  
    "Yes," Descrier merely found himself stammering. "Of course! I wouldn't miss it."  
    "Very good," Fall of Night said softly, smiling gently. "Well! It seems all of my friends are coming after all." Descrier knew that meant a grand number of the students in Merkier, of all levels and disciplines. "I hope we'll have enough food."  
    "You'd better make sure," Descrier said wryly. "Polar Star's coming, and you know that means we'll never really know how much we'll _need_."  
    Just as Descrier hoped then, Fall of Night laughed. He had a lovely laugh. It was consistent with the rest of him, in both the subtle mirth and the subtle sadness. "Well," the older boy ventured, "one ought to know what he's in for when he invites Polar Star to any gathering. I still want him to come, so I'll just have to make sure there's food enough - it never goes the other way around."  
    If he were Polar Star, Descrier thought suddenly, bringing to mind pleasant visions of the cheerful, chubby, stubborn Stoneshaper whom he used to bully in childhood - if he were Polar Star, he would be glad to hear it, Fall.  
    Fall of Night was about to say something more, when he stopped, started to look beyond Descrier at something far behind him. On impulse, Descrier turned. A lanky shape was striding toward them, down the empty corridor.  
    Descrier frowned. Even from afar, he could recognize the shape that marked the fifteen-year-old Warmage Winter. Looser cuts of the soft blue Air robes he wore streamed behind him as he walked, making him look like a ghost, with his ridiculously pale skin, and eyes that shone. Gentle breeze from nowhere played ceaselessly with the light strands of thin hair that flew ignored across his brow.  
    Fall of Night hailed the newcomer as he would any other stranger or friend: "Winter..."  
    "What is it?" Winter snapped, slightly annoyed. The Attitude was preparing for a hostile takeover. But his steps became noticeably slower as he approached.  
    And then Fall of Night smiled at him as if he were just another stranger or friend. Frustration crept up Descrier's spine. Did the older boy really find Winter so tolerable, or was he merely putting on a great show? ...yet if he were, for whose benefit was it? He never knew Fall of Night to be so dishonest.  
    "Have you decided on whether or not to come to my celebration tomorrow?"  
    What, Descrier said to himself, disbelievingly. Had even _Winter_ been asked to come? All of Merkier was going, then, if Winter was saying yes!  
    Winter completely stopped walking. His gaze was fixed on Fall's, as if Descrier did not exist.  
    "I'm going," he said simply. And then, almost courteously, he waited for an answer.  
    Fall of Night sighed in genuine relief. "That's good," he remarked. "I'll be expecting you, then. I'm sorry to have bothered you."  
    Winter gave him a curt nod. That was it, after Fall of Night's trouble to apologize for nothing at all...! Descrier found himself riled, for too little reason. But before he could say or do anything about it, Winter had gone on his way.  
    Good riddance, Descrier whispered inside himself. He could feel that, to create the Attitude, Winter used a subtle glamor - a disguise to turn the unwanted away. And it dissuaded him from finding out why the Warmage had to waste mana on the masquerade.  
    Those blue eyes would have been fair, he found himself lamenting suddenly, when Winter had long gone from sight: fair like Fall's. They were narrow and triangular, and were of the deepest blue yet - the kind one would mistake for black: the color of the night sky. Boldly set against a pale, narrow face chiseled, it seemed, from marble - indeed, they would have been fair, if not for the _glamor_ there, the timid irritation that beset any chosen prey.  
    "Any chosen prey", it also seemed, was anyone except Fall of Night.  
    Even long after Winter had gone, Fall smiled.  
    "All right, then," he said sunnily to himself, "that's everyone."  
    He turned to leave.  
    "Oh, and Descrier," he said over his shoulder, "please remind Jade to study the scrolls I've lent him. He'll need them quite soon, for Master Firerock's exercises." And then he was gone.  
    Descrier took a moment before making his own way back to the dormitories for the night's rest.  
  
    As Descrier was falling asleep, late into the night, his mind reached out to the Waters' dormitory rooms. It carefully probed each wandering consciousness there for a familiar pattern to connect to. Finally he found Jade, a shimmering patch of calm blue light in the utter blackness of the dimension of dream. He reached out to it immediately.  
    "I'm here," Descrier said, as steady tendrils of blue light made the contact necessary for clear communication. "Where is Polar Star?"  
    "Out," Jade said softly. The Sealord's spirit-voice echoed like a whisper inside pure silver walls. "The Earths are holding a celebration of their own in honor of young Master Clay. He is thirty-eight now."  
    "Is that so?" Descrier's semi-consciousness asked without much interest. Even in dreaming, he was impetuous as ever. "What time will he be able to reach us, then? Or _will_ he still be able to reach us? The celebration will tire him."  
    "Oh, he'll reach us," Jade laughed. "I've warned him to not eat or drink too much tonight. Tomorrow is much too important."  
    The vision of a pair of large, dark eyes imposed itself within the amorphous patch of blue. As Descrier looked harder, the patch took on Jade's shape, though it shimmered in and out of form. He knew he was also taking shape before Jade, and just as laboriously.  
    The tendrils that touched in the dream took the shape of two pairs of young, strong hands made of different spectra, and that was only when they were able to break apart.  
    Descrier smiled. "Fall of Night," he pronounced, "is really special, isn't he?"  
    "Hm. Tell me about it." Jade smiled back. "I know I'm training to be a Sealord...but since I met him, I've been thinking about becoming a Healer, too."  
    "Oh?" Descrier remarked with genuine interest. "Why do you say that?"  
    Jade didn't seem to know how to answer this easily, but he tried.  
    "Fall of Night said to me one time: 'A Healer is born to serve. There will be one point in your life, as a Healer, when you will meet someone who needs your warmth more than he needs your magic. When that happens, instinct must rule you: hold on to him, and don't let go, until he breaks off from your embrace, or pushes you away. Either way, you would have done your part, and you would know it, by the calm over your heart.' "  
    Jade grinned happily. "It's the sort of thing that I can recall easily..."  
    But his sole audience was already staring into something very far away.  
    "I - " Descrier was about to say something here, something more or less pleasant, Jade guessed. But it was never spoken. The expression on Descrier's face soured quickly, and he grumbled, "He was talking about Winter, wasn't he?"  
    "What?" Jade laughed uneasily.  
    "Hey, men. Who was talking about Winter...?"  
    The two turned to see a shapeless patch of bright, joyful orange drifting toward them. Jade smiled in welcome. He recognized his best friend.  
    "I'm here." Polar Star reached out an orange tendril to either of his companions. The tendrils took the shape of hands even as his companions took them. When the shifting settled, it turned out that Polar Star's human shape was the most sharply defined of the three.  
    "Now what were we saying about our favorite Air?" he started to jest.  
    Descrier grunted and looked away. Sensitive Jade took the hint and said "We weren't talking about Winter at all, Pole. He was mentioned in passing, was all. It's about Fall's birthday present."  
    "Fall's present, okay," Polar Star pronounced slowly. "It had better be good, by the way. I passed up a perfectly good buffet for this planning session."  
  
    The dreamspeak session lasted for an entire hour, but after much bickering and gossip that wasted precious time, the boys were able to finalize the details of their presentation for the following evening. Then they separated, and thus freed each other from the dream-state.  
    Descrier returned to his body for sleep, and found that he could not sleep. Something troubled him. He guessed that the dreamspeak must have exhausted his two friends' mana for the day, and as he lay in his bed wondering what in hell was going on with himself, Polar Star and Jade were already snoring the rest of the night away.  
    A few more minutes of meditation made it clear to him that whatever troubled him had something to do with what Jade had said, about what Fall of Night had said about the craft of Healing. And what Descrier himself had said in reply.  
    _He was talking about Winter, wasn't he?_  
    Of _course_ he was talking about Winter. Who else could Fall have been referring to when he said "someone who needs your warmth more than he needs your magic"? It was the person he paid the most attention to. It was the person he favored above everyone else.  
    But even as these angry thoughts ate away at Descrier, he said sternly to himself: "Idiot. Why should it matter to you, idiot, that it's Winter and not _you_?  
    Descrier threw an arm across his tired eyes. He started to reprimand himself, knowing no one else would catch whiff of anything he did in his thorough isolation. "Do you know why it matters? It's because you and Winter are more alike than you would care to admit. It's because when you were a kid, you, too, caused so much trouble with your untamed powers that people thought you were an evil spirit. It's because when you were a kid, you...you killed, too."  
    A moment of shock passed after these words were able to push through Descrier's lips. The boy turned over to bury his face in his pillow, as if that would take care of the notions in his head - but it wasn't so easy to be rid of a thought so deeply rooted.  
    "You did it with fire," he mumbled through the fabric. "He did it with a storm so big he killed everybody in his village, not just his parents, like you did. Well, he differed from you in one thing: his deal was no accident...at least, that was what the Masters who found him said."  
    Descrier had lost his parents when, as an infant inclined to throw tantrums every now and then, he set their humble cottage suddenly ablaze. He was their firstborn, and only child. He never knew them. He spent the rest of his childhood in the care of a kindly Master Ironshaper who endeavored to train him, alongside talented fledglings like Jade and Polar Star, for a headstart in Merkier.  
    On the other hand, the Masters found the boy named Winter in a state of total shock, in the midst of the fresh ruins of a large, prosperous fishing village. He had lost a great deal of mana in causing the storm, and he was badly battered, besides: he had to fall under the care of the Healers for several days.  
    When Winter was well enough to talk, he spoke of everything - of how he had always been able to control the weather so that the fishing nets of the village were always filled, of how he had always known that the villagers stayed away from him because they knew he helped them in such a manner. Most important, he spoke of how his father used to beat him and his infant brother to a bloody pulp, out of sheer drunken fear. His infant brother had no strange powers. But it was his death that caused the great storm.  
    The soldiers of the Empire had demanded custody of the boy. They would kill him, because his magic was too strong. Sometimes the Masters of Merkier agreed to such terms...but they spared Winter. They interned Winter for training even though he was not yet twelve years old, and under the care of a Master - both these requirements were necessary for a child to enter Merkier. They said Winter could be trained to harness his powers for the benefit of the Empire, like everyone on Merkier. He might even end up to be the most disciplined of their prodigies.  
    They were right.  
    Winter was a machine. Winter had no feelings - Descrier was sure of that. Everything he did had a reason, and it almost always had to do with himself. And there was no reason for him to care about anyone else, or reason for anyone else to care about him, was there?  
    But there came a time when he met a stranger named Fall of Night, who greeted him constantly as they passed each other. After a while he started greeting back. He never smiled, of course...but he came to look upon Fall of Night as he did not look upon anyone else: with a touch of curiosity.  
    Of course: anyone would be curious about Fall. One only knew that he came from the prosperous island of Rai, and from rumors, one could only garner that he was a scion of the nobility there. He never confirmed it. He, himself, had asked to be established in Merkier, when he was twelve years old, and precocious in every aspect of the word.  
    And all just anyone could know of Fall was the rich crop of cornsilk hair that sometimes fell over half of his calm marble face, the eyes that never stopped smiling...hands so light and warm they burned. And a voice that sang so.  
There was one time, an unforgettable time for everyone in Merkier who adored Fall and reviled Winter with a passion...

  
    Fall miscast a spell during one of his private exercises, and succumbed to a terrible fever which lasted for several days. The Master Healers refused to treat him, slating the incident down as something brought about by his own carelessness. "Anyway," they said, "he'll be good as new in a week's time." Until then, he had to sit his punishment out. It was the first time Fall miscast a major Healing spell.  
    Of course Fall had troops of visitors, everyday. But come nighttime there was one visitor who stayed the longest, one who watched over him as he slept and made certain there was no need of the sick child not met. Guardians were assigned the younger students of Merkier, but by the time Fall of Night got sick, he and Winter were already too old for guardians.  
    Even then, too few knew either of them well enough to know how they came to be so close.  
    However, at the end of that harrying week, Winter was his old hoary self, making sure he was always at a safe distance from everyone else, as if nothing happened.  
    It almost made Descrier sorry to remember that "I'd decided...not to let anyone close to me, too."  
    He was too similar to Winter it was annoying - and at the same time, it turned out that there was a lot about Winter he found to envy, not just dislike.  
    It's foolish, Descrier decided fiercely. _I'm not in contest with Winter. Let him do his own stupid show. Let him make his own stupid gift. Whatever he'll do, he'll certainly do it alone, and it would not turn out well._  
  
    The following day seemed as relatively calm as any other day in Merkier. Only, as the afternoon approached, a subtle wave of anticipation overtook the crowded halls. Descrier had announced that he and his best friends Jade and Polar Star, all of uncontested talent, had prepared a performance that would be staged during the night's banquet.  
    They had said it would involve Change spells. Descrier took the liberty to add that Master Changer Sunhawk would oversee the performance, to ensure that all will go well. This set the would-be audience at ease. Change spells, which involved altering the original physical states of objects living and otherwise, took much mana, and were very dangerous to cast, as there was always the possibility that what they could _do_ could never be _undone_.  
    What sort of performance would involve extravagant Change spells, people wondered. Fall of Night, who had stopped short on his way to the Healers' Library upon hearing Descrier's psychic message issued throughout the building, looked especially alarmed.  
    "I certainly hope he just means elementary Change," he remarked worriedly. "Descrier may be a good pupil, but Changing large animate objects may still be beyond his skill level..."  
    Knowing that he meant to say it only to himself, Winter, who happened to be nearby, frowned. 

  
(End Part 1) 


	2. part 2

***The Dragon and the Swan (part 2)***  
  
    In the middle of the banquet, someone pointed out that a dragon was fast approaching. Everyone fell silent, wondering how a dragon could penetrate the magical defenses of the island.  
    The Airs were especially on their guard. They were the ones Merkier counted on to create barriers against sudden physical attacks.  
    Beside Fall of Night, who looked as stunned as everyone else, Winter stood and faced the area where everyone felt the beast was coming from. He brought his outstretched fingers out before his face, started to utter a spell. His eyes gleamed. Everyone prepared for the worst.  
    Suddenly, Winter fell as silent as everyone else. He brought his hands down slowly and did not turn around at once.  
    "What is it?" Fall of Night hazarded asking. Winter turned to him with surprise in his eyes, which was rare, and which affected everyone who saw it.  
    "It's not a dragon. It's -- "  
    There was a scream from the distance that nothing but a dragon could have uttered.  
    Out of the darkness, a shape came into view. It was long, dark, powerful. It glided into the banquet area as surely as if it had planned to.  
    "It's..." Someone else stepped forward. It was the Earth named Dusk, a Changer. "It's rock! It's a big piece of rock!"  
    "What?" an older boy shouted. "What are you talking about?"  
    "He's right. Look and see." Everyone turned to the one who spoke. It was Jade. The magic eyes of the boys of Merkier found him glowing with a deep blue aura, and when they looked closer, they realized that the two who were standing beside him, his best friends Descrier and Polar Star, were also surrounded with the faint light.  
    Jade was smiling. Mirth shone in his wise young face. He shut his eyes, and moved a step back to join his friends. The combined blue aura of the three grew stronger, until it was a huge flame that seemed to consumed them.  
    The dragon was about to dive straight into the mob, which started to edge into itself warily. The strange rumbling noise it made grew steadily louder, more frightening. But just as it was about to collide with the audience, it rose, curling gracefully upward and speeding, shooting up like a star.  
    It hovered above the crowd. The watchers noticed that it was circling. As their eyes grew accustomed to its speed and darkness, they were able to discern something special about the intruder: it was made of thousands of fist-sized stones pressed together.  
    The truth hit them like a tidal wave -- it was an illusion! The creature's shape and motion were defined by telekinesis. The rumbling sound it made was caused by the stones rubbing against each other as the creature moved.  
    Awe lit up the face of the crowd. The feat must take enormous concentration! At last only four faces seemed devoid of this emotion: those of the three who had surely made the dragon and were controlling everything about it -- and Winter's. Winter simply watched, not even bothering to show if he hated what he saw, like he usually did.  
    But, unknown to the watchers, the dragon had prepared another surprise. Before their very eyes, the creature burst into multicolored flame. It was so close to the watchers that some shaded their eyes, but none turned away. What was happening? Why was the creature burning up?  
    The flames subsided quickly. The dragon had not slowed down, or changed its route. The only thing that had changed about it was its form: instead of rock, it was now made of thousands of fist-sized jewels, of all colors. In Merkier, where precious stones could be acquired with just a flick of one's wrist, gems were of practically no commercial value -- yet they dazzled, and oh, how they shone in the eyes of the watchers!  
    "Change," Master Sunhawk explained to no one in particular, beaming. "Nothing here is illusion." He sounded as proud as he was of his three prodigies.  
    The dragon did not last in such majesty, however -- it was not meant to shine so for long. Quite suddenly, it flew upward again, until it was a safe distance from everyone and everything else. And then it exploded.  
    The dust from the dream fluttered downward amid deafening shouts of delight.  
  
    "*Yes*...!"  
    Descrier was the only one left standing in his little troupe. Jade and Polar Star were on their knees on either side of him, catching their breaths, wiping off beads of cold sweat from their foreheads.  
    The large crowd that the announcement of the afternoon had gathered was applauding gaily. He heard some familiar voices laughing aloud in genuine delight, among which was Fall of Night's. If anyone grumbled in disdain or discontent, Descrier chose never to know it. He basked in glorious praise.  
    Multicolored dust flew into his eyes and made them water. The dust that fell from the sky glittered like microscopic bits of jewel, which, Stoneshapers like Polar Star knew, the shimmering bits actually _were_. It was all that was left of the mile-long dragon the young Firestarter, Sealord and Stoneshaper had so carefully formed from what was originally clay and saltwater.  
    At this point, a Weatherworker in the crowd took the incentive to summon a gentle breeze to waft the dust from the audience so they could once more turn their faces up. They saw the dust gather above them, swirl, and finally settle in a wide circle on the rocky ground around the banquet area. Enthusiastic applause followed this otherwise simple feat.  
    "Lightning! Don't tell me you're part of the show!" someone shouted. The mild-tempered Air for whom this call was meant bowed, to the amusement of the crowd.  
    "It was wonderful," Fall of Night said aloud. "It was perfectly done, Descrier."  
    Descrier, though pale and obviously more than a little weak, beamed. "Doing the Change from rock to gemstone was hard, without an Air to help," he admitted. "But Polar Star, Jade and I - we considered it a challenge worth our while."  
    "It was perfectly done," Fall of Night said again, smiling like an older brother. "Thank you."  
    Polar Star was already on his feet, and was helping Jade up. The two were slowly but surely being surrounded by younger Earths and Waters, who vowed to absolutely _worship_ their skills after that night. Presently, two Healers in their early twenties, peers of Fall of Night, attended to them.  
    In the meantime, Fall of Night restored some of Descrier's strength with a simple touch. Pale green light issued from the palms of his hands, steady on the smaller boy's shoulders. While color came back to Descrier's cheeks, he laughed and jested with the other guests.  
    Descrier loved the evening. He felt as if he had fought hard for something and won. Fall of Night was smiling and laughing. He had liked their performance. Oh, the preparations had been worth it. Spending mana had been worth all of it.  
    But the glory was not to last.  
    "I have also prepared..."  
    This quiet declaration stunned the audience. Fall of Night's hands left Descrier's shoulders, but by then the boy had regained most of his strength.  
    Winter looked ahead at no one in particular, stood very straight. He was that way when he addressed a crowd, looking like one of the Master Woodshapers' more finely-built dolls. "If Fall of Night would allow it," he pronounced with uncharacteristic care, "I have also prepared a show. Regretfully...unlike the one that we have all just seen." Why bother with humility, in the first place?  
    Fall of Night broke into another smile. "Well," he answered quietly. "This is indeed a surprise, Winter. A presentation! I am honored."  
    "And I can hardly wait," the recovered Polar Star said aside to Jade.  
    Winter stepped up. The crowd parted for him, made a respectful circle around the spot where he finally decided to stand still. Gently he adjusted the cuffs of his air robes, loosening them so he could free his wrists.  
    "This is all illusion. There is no Change involved," Winter announced as his eyes closed. And promptly he raised his arms to summon the imagery he had planned to rival the combined magic of three comrades.  
  
    A dot of electric blue appeared on the horizon.  
    The dot multiplied, spread like sand across the vast expanse of sky, claiming the heavens as the stage for what would appear next.  
    "That's already using up a lot of mana," someone whispered in the utter silence, and it carried through a large part of the crowd. "Does he know what he's doing?"  
    The sand across the universe that everyone in Merkier could see shifted and twisted and whirled, concentrated and made spaces between them that defined shapes. Shapes etched on the starry stage. It looked as if the illusionist were positioning and repositioning all the bluest stars in the midsummer night sky.  
    Descrier made out...  
    a picture from a dream.  
    Even he could not deny the magnificence of the scene. Winter was painting a landscape out of glittering bits of sand of the same color.  
    The woody landscape centered on a large "pool"; the space that was to represent water warped and rippled as if it _reflected_ the stars behind it.  
    Suddenly, somewhere nearby, there was music. Or something like music. There were no notes, but everyone who watched the drama knew that his heart was being made to conceive of a singing out of a distant world. It brought to mind the slight tinkling of bells...  
    As the listeners strained to make sense of the feeling, some of the blue particles from all around the lake gathered at the center, and created a gigantic shape: a swan. A lifelike swan, moving with unearthly grace.  
    "How," Jade began, breathless. He never quite finished.  
    "Oh damn," Polar Star sighed, "the mana that swan must take..."  
    The imaginary swan started to glide across the imaginary pool in time with the imaginary music, its movements growing more fluid by the moment. It danced. The imaginary magic seemed to take strength from the awe of its spectators.  
    Descrier's mouth hung open. His tired hands hung limply at his sides.  
    Fall of Night simply looked up, like a mystified child, wide-eyed.  
    None of them had seen anything like it before.  
  
    Tears formed at the edge of Descrier's dark eyes - tears like no one else's in the crowd. Angrily, he wiped them away before they could think of falling.  
    It was a _swan_ Winter fought Descrier's dragon with. _How could it possibly have won_...?  
    Darkness fell over the wilderness as Winter's stars died out one by one, with the brightest star at the swan's right eye going out last.  
    After that, there was thunder.  
    It was not even a magical one. It was little more than applause, from the banquet area to the farthest dormitory rooms of Merkier.  
    It would have gone on and on, Descrier thought numbly, on and on, if only something had not happened...  
    Winter dropped to his hands and knees gracelessly. Then, reluctantly, the thunder stopped.  
    Fall of Night hastened through the crowd into the small empty circle where Winter lay. But all he did by that was to keep a distance a little less respectful than everyone else did from the weary Warmage.  
    Jade, who happened to be near the circle, also stepped up, and laid a hand on Winter's shoulder. Not entirely to everyone's surprise, Winter shoved his hand away brusquely.  
    He stood on his own, without anyone's help. And, with his head bowed, he turned to leave. A pitch-black Teleport shroud swallowed him whole, and in a heartbeat he had completely disappeared.  
    "What," Polar Star breathed, as he strode to Jade's side, "is that man trying to pull? He needs help. He'll be in bed for days after this without Healing."  
    Descrier was about to comment, when he happened to turn back to the circle, and see that Fall of Night had also disappeared.  
  
    He felt he went mad after that. All the same, no one other than Jade and Polar Star must have noticed how urgently he had pushed through the crowd to return to the school proper. Polar Star tried to block his way, but Descrier brushed him aside with a simple Force spell, too strong to still be friendly. He felt Polar Star's hurt glare burn into his back as he ran on.  
    "Descrier," he heard Jade shout after him, "don't be brash. Descrier!"  
    The main building. They had to be somewhere there. There was nowhere for them to hide in the dormitories. But the main building was far larger than the dormitories and its true size was never reliable, anyway. The Libraries and equipment rooms were magically sealed, so those permanent rooms were out of the question...  
    Where could they be?  
    What does it matter?  
    "Descrier," he heard Jade shout after him, "don't be brash. Descrier!"  
    The main building. They had to be somewhere there. There was nowhere for them to hide in the dormitories. But the main building was far larger than the dormitories and its true size was never reliable, anyway. The Libraries and equipment rooms were magically sealed, so those permanent rooms were out of the question...  
    Where could they be?  
    What does it matter?  
    Descrier wanted this sort of reason to get the better of him, but he was in such a familiar situation: he felt like he was not in control, that he was looking down on his body and not really knowing how it felt -  
    He would scour the main building until someone stopped him, or else his strength ran out.  
    _The curse of many young Firestarters_, he remembered one Master or another saying once, as he strode down the empty classrooms, halls, _is that they can barely control the blazes they sometimes set by accident_.  
    At one time or another, he found them.  
  
    At first it was just one of them. The one whose midnight eyes turned downward almost sadly. He was crouched in a corner of the shadows in a random corridor, one that would disappear come the dawn, with his arms about his drawn-up knees...his face hidden from view.  
    He seemed to fidget so, catching breath, sometimes, just turning his head from side to side, and shivering with cold all over. Descrier knew the symptoms of mana drain. At one point or another, every student in Merkier would experience such pain, the pain that no superficial spell could kill. Some students have died of it.  
    Winter needed rest. Or Healing. Both, preferably.  
    A sneer formed, not entirely against Descrier's will. He recognized whatever perverse pleasure he got from seeing an unofficial rival suffer. Why he could stay there all night, hidden like that, he told himself...but he had classes the next morning. And for all it was worth, he wanted to experience a day in Merkier when he did not seethe with the knowledge that Winter was somewhere in the vicinity.  
    He turned to leave.  
    Just then he felt a mana rush, and turned back. Someone had just teleported into the scene.  
    It was exactly whom he feared it would be.  
    "Winter," Fall of Night called again, just as softly as he did in the wilderness.  
    Winter hid his face in his arms and edged as far away as he could get. He barely had the strength to tell Fall of Night to leave him alone, as he might have wanted to. It was, Descrier chuckled to himself, not at all reasonable behavior toward someone for whom you had almost killed yourself.  
    "Winter," Fall of Night said again, as he knelt beside the younger boy. "I only want to thank you."  
    He tricked the Air with that. Everything about Winter seemed to loosen and surrender. What could be seen of Winter's features softened in grievous defeat.  
    "It was a grand show. A grand show."  
    Fall of Night pulled the younger boy against him in a tight embrace. A Healer's embrace. Descrier knew it for what it was. Magic eyes saw the greenish light that enveloped the two.  
    The supernatural weariness slowly left Winter's face. But during the transition, there was a moment, just a moment, whose passing failed to escape Descrier's attention. For that moment, tears stood in Winter's eyes, as they would in the eyes of a child grown lost in a storm that never quite ended. And then the midnight blue eyes closed completely.  
    The shadow of a familiar smile of subtle mirth and subtle sadness traced itself upon everything about Fall of Night. And then it was all the grief Descrier could stand for the evening.  
    He expended a bit more mana to get himself as far away from the illusionary hell as possible.  
  
    Late that night, as he was weaving himself into another restful dream, he thought about the following morning. He thought about what people would say. He especially thought about what Jade would say, when what Jade said would seem to matter more to him than almost anything else.  
    Jade, he thought, would say "It always hurts when you want so much to win, doesn't it?"  
    And that dragon he had planned so long to make, worked so hard for, already dwindled in comparison with the single-color swan that never Changed, and never truly existed.  
    The tears he had been holding back all evening finally fell as he dropped off to sleep. By then it was too late to stop them. 


End file.
